Chapter 3

The beach is empty on this Wednesday afternoon. Even so, Gregory takes care to move the journal from its place beneath his towel and to secret it between the pages of Entertainment Weeklyin his tote bag. He pushes the magazine to the bottom of the bag, piling the baby oil, apples, and water bottle he brought with him on top of it. He looks down and is satisfied: no one would ever guess his secret sexual history lies at the bottom of the bag, like a snake coiled beneath a rock. He stands and stretches his arms above his head, surveying the clear blue sky and feeling the heat of the sun on his face and chest. The day is hot and still, not even a whisper of a breeze. A mosquito buzzes by his ear. The air feels thick around him, and he thinks that drawing it too deeply into his lungs will scar the delicate pink tissue. He laughs again. “Oh, come off it,” he whispers to himself, looking around. “Save the creative writing for your journal.”